The Deepest Scars . . .

To the one I love. To you.

I sit and wait, a shadow of my former self - deformed by the absence of secure feelings.

I sit and wonder about the possibilities of life without you. The endless reams of sorrow that nestle within my joints and chill every cell that creates who I am.

My worry seems to have no effect on you, yet I know deep down you care. I know you want to change. I know you can't . . .

Maybe if i changed? Would that help ease the pain of what we know will never be. A happy relationship that blossomed at the bus stop.

Teenage love is an addiction. People say that first loves are always the hardest. Is that why we fight? Is our relationship a first love? Because I know you are my first love and I want you to be my last - for my sake, not yours.

William Orpen painted a picture. It's beautiful like you. I always thought that love comes only to those who deserve it, however you came to me so that must not be true.

Words cannot fathom as to how I feel. Because I don't know how i feel. You speak latin, french, Irish and german - yet you don't speak my language.

What's wrong? Tell me, speak to me in terms I understand. Help me to understand. Teach me to teach you.

I know you care, because I see you cry. You think I'm not looking but I am. I saw you when you saw me.

I saw your journal, even though I shouldn't have looked. But you left me with no other option.

So, yeah, I just want to let you know that I do care and I do love you.

Yes, I want to be with you forever.
Yes, I will love you forever.
Yes, I hate what you do.
Yes, with time I will forgive.

No, I will not desert you.

Lot's of Love.

Karen.
. . . . . . . . . xxxx